The Unicorn and the Snape
by Kethryveris2
Summary: Voldemort sends a hunter to the Forbidden Forest for Unicorn blood only to be foiled by Snape. Now the Order must deal with the fallout.
1. Chapter One

The vague beginnings of incandescent morning light filtered through the canopy of the Forbidden Forest.  It wafted gently through the trees, turning the forest from darkened wood to enchanted haven as light caressed the leaves.  Denizens of the forest were barely opening their sleepy eyes to greet the new day.  The birds began to chirp a greeting to the new dawn.   The foxes, rabbits, and raccoons were clearing away the debris collected during the night from their doors.  In a secluded clearing, a creature emerged from its darkest depths and shadow_.   Sleek, white, and powerful, it strode along the grass toward the center of the dewy grass.  The last of night's shadows gathered under the forest branches.  A doe and her fawn watched the vibrant legend from the cover of a copse.  _

The hollow shade of the surrounding trees was not as empty as it looked, however.  The Hunter watched the creature hungrily, lusting after the promise of power.  He was crouched low in some berry bushes off to the side, almost stiff from his all-night vigil.  He'd been waiting three days for it to show and had almost given up hope, until now.  Now that the creature had shown itself, he had no intention of going back empty-handed.  He watched the progress of the creature as it walked toward the pond in the clearing.

"Yes, my lovely, keep walking..." he breathed.  "I need you to keep heading toward that pond."  

Its ears flickered at the faint sound that carried in the wind, but it continued on to the pool in the center of the clearing, staring at its flawless surface.   Its flanks shivered in the cold morning air, nostrils flared gently.  It knelt, dipping the pride of its existence, a pearlescent horn gracing the forehead, into the pool.  It was a ritual as old as the primitive earth magic.  Drawn from a time when there were no potions, books, or wands to cast charms and spells; to purify water so that a forest and its creatures may live a life free of disease or illness, a unicorn must dip its horn and swirl it three times.  The unicorn's bent head swirled the horn once.

"My beauty..." The Hunter crooned.  He lifted his cloak silently and carefully pulled out a heavy iron crossbow, aiming it at the chest of the unicorn.  The unicorn swirled its horn a second time.  The Hunter took careful aim, lining up the shaft to the chest bone of the unsuspecting creature, slowly pulling the winch tight.  The unicorn began its third swirl.  Midway through pulling the winch, it gave a slight creak.  The abnormal sound resounded through the forest glen like a shot.  The unicorn lifted its head and sniffed the air, sensing the danger immediately.  Lunging to its feet, it broke into a gallop, leapt over a fallen log and plunged into the shadowy forest.  But the Hunter was the Dark Lord's creature.  The Dark Lord did not tolerate failure.  The Hunter NEEDED that blood; his master NEEDED that blood.  He pursued it; his black, sorcerous treated boots making almost no sound.

_The HUNTER!  _The name seared into the mind of the unicorn.  She had been warned not to come this far out of hiding, not to leave the old glade.  The old man from the wizards' castle had told her to hide there years ago and not to come out until he came for her.  She berated herself for behaving like a headstrong colt.  She had foolishly revealed herself by attempting to purify a pond so close to the edge of the forest.  She realized quickly that she was about to pay for her miscalculation. _ The sound of her pounding hooves reverberated through the forest undergrowth.  _Faster_, she thought, _I must go faster!_  Try as she might, she could not outstrip the Hunter; not even her otherworldly powers would permit her faster travel through the tangled forest full of trees and no flat ground.   She twisted and turned through the dense underbrush, all the while feeling the Hunter's eyes boring into her as he followed.  _

_I have her now_, the Hunter thought.  He was leaping through the trees, keeping pace with the unicorn.  The Dark Lord had given him much in magical accruement for this task.  On his feet, he wore boots charmed to be swift and silent.  His cloak kept him from being too cold or too hot.  His weapon was made of solid iron, but charmed to operate as a normal weighted crossbow.   He leveled the iron crossbow to his shoulder.  The Strength Charm he placed upon himself made carrying the crossbow effortless, and so he chased her with ease.  

            There was nowhere to hide for the unicorn.  No matter where she turned, no matter where she ran, the Hunter followed close behind.  She made a decision.  The unicorn fled to the one place she knew she might be safe, the place of the Hunter's enemies.   _The castle, _thought the unicorn, _I must make it to the castle.  To the one they call Albus.  _A whizzing sound passed her ear and she narrowly missed ramming into the iron spiked bolt embedded in the tree before her.  _Oh please, she pleaded, __please someone help ... anyone.  She wasn't one for prayer as humans were prone to do, but she thought she might give it a go, it couldn't hurt.  Another 'thunk' and another narrowly averted spike landed inches from her grinding hooves.  The Hunter was becoming more accurate.  She twisted to the right and dodged between two closely grown trees.  He was keeping up, and it concerned her.  Even wizards were hard pressed to catch a unicorn if it doesn't want to be caught.  __What manner of creature is chasing me, she wondered.  Then she shook her head and battened down her concentration.  __Keep moving, she told herself, __Keep going!  His third shot skinned her right forelock, severing her hamstring.  She screamed in agony, falling to her knees, blinded by the pain.  The iron branded her flesh, bypassing her innate resistance to injury.  _

The Hunter had been pressing on after her, his life, his very existence hanging in the balance. He swore at his first missed shot.  He chased her a few more meters, loading he crossbow again and winding the winch.  When he missed the second time, he howled in rage.     His face was a mask of contorted fury and frustration.  Cursing himself and the crossbow, he reloaded and wound the winch again while running, realizing that he had only two more iron bolts left.  He HAD to get the shot right.  He had to shoot it down before it made it to the Hogwarts grounds.  If he failed, the entire castle and that idiot Dumbledore would be alerted to his presence and purpose.  He fired again.  This time, he made the shot.  The unicorn went down, plowing into the ground and rolling to its side.  As he approached, he could barely make out the end of the road leading into the forest.  No one stood on the path, and no one would witness this.  The Dark Lord's victory would be complete.  The Hunter lifted the crossbow to his shoulder one final time, his strong arms lining the sight to its heaving chest.  He saw it lurch up on three legs and he had to readjust his aim.  _Steady,_ he told himself_, synchronize the cross sight with the breathing rhythm of your prey.  Now gently pull the trigger.   _

At that moment two things happened at once, the Hunter pulled back on the trigger to fire, and a deep voice filled with power entered the scene with a shout of "_Expelliarmus__".  The crossbow fell to the ground.   The bolt landed mere centimeters from its target.  Both unicorn and man stared at the gentleman emerging from the surrounding foliage.  He was tall, and dressed in long black robes.  Black shoulder length hair and obscuring shadows blurred his features.  He had a wand already out, clutched in a white-knuckled grip.  The Hunter took in all this and was surprised that he didn't recognize him.  __I thought I knew everyone that was going to be at Hogwarts, he thought.  He was, however, going to kill him all the same.  The Hunter pulled out his wand._

The Wizard was tired and angry this morning.  He had returned to the Hogwarts grounds after a long night and wanted nothing more than to curl up and catch a few hours sleep before class.  It seemed, however, that Fate had conspired to deny him this wish.  _No surprise_, thought the Wizard to himself,_ fate has ever been fickle with me.  If I didn't collect bad luck; I would have no luck at all.  _Fueled by nothing more concrete than rumor and suspicion, the Wizard had decided to search the forest for any signs of the Dark Lord in the Forest.  He had walked up the path.  He had walked down the path.  He had walked a kilometer in either direction of the blasted path.  He found nothing to verify his suspicions.  

He had been chalking up his eavesdropped conversation as a mishearing when he heard a faint rumbling sound.  Intrigued, he cast a blurring charm on himself that rendered his features rather nondescript.  That taken care of, the Wizard hurried onward to the cause of the sound, speeding up when he heard something shriek ahead of him.  He came upon the fallen unicorn and the Dark Lord's minion.  Although he vaguely remembered the face, the Hunter's name escaped the Wizard's recollection for just a moment.  He quickly yelled a disarming charm and watched the crossbow fall to the ground.  The Wizard recognized it as an iron crossbow.  Only someone preparing to kill fey creatures would need such a weapon.  _So, for once my actions have yielded something of importance.  _The Wizard noticed the Hunter taking in his sudden appearance and raising his wand.  _Can't have that, thought the Wizard,__ Voldemort will have to be disappointed this day._

"_Stupefy!"_ his voice rang out.  The Wizard hardly spared a glance to the Unicorn who was shakily getting to her feet, preparing to flee again.  Her thoughts were chaotic but she had enough presence of mind to recognize what could amount to divine intervention when she saw it.  Unfortunately, her inability to heal wounds of iron meant that her forelock was still injured badly.  She stumbled as she rose.  Her jerky movements caught the attention of the quickly recovering Hunter, who aimed his wand at her.  The beginnings of a chilling and triumphant grin crept along the Hunter's face.

"No!" screamed the Wizard.  He was going to be too late.  Like all other times, this would just collect as one more act in which he, having the power to do something worthwhile in his miserable life, was just too late.  _Like I had been too late to realize the extent of Voldemort's madness. _ Like knowing Voldemort was going after Lily and James that night.  Like knowing about Quirrell.  _He was too late; his spell wouldn't interrupt the one now flying toward the Unicorn, but he could disrupt the effects, and he did_

_"Transfigaro Emptumio!"_ roared the Wizard, weaving his life-force into the blast

            The Unicorn started to shimmer, becoming a faint shadow, the hint of a new form rising.  The Hunter's spell passed right through her.  Enraged, the Hunter hurled the spell again.  And again.  But his spell was meant to kill a unicorn, and that creature was changed enough to not be recognized by the spell.  The Hunter tried to reverse the effects of the spell being cast but he was too late.  The Wizard was already murmuring additives into the spell, binding it to a new purpose:

                        Reborn to Earth in Mortal guise,

                        Encased in layers of visions you must hide,

                        Secure your will and life shall be,

                        Only if by danger done shall you set yourself free.

            Shorter and slimmer the Unicorn became, forelocks turned into limbs, her shining coat to skin, hooves to dexterous hands, until what lay on the ground was no longer an immortal unicorn, but a flesh and blood woman.  The stunned woman lay on the ground, staring upwards at the two men near her.

"BLAST YOU!  You bloody bastard! What did you do that for?" yelled the Hunter to the Wizard.  "I know what you did.  You've stolen her power for yourself!"  He raised his wand to the Wizard, yelling, "Petrificus Totalus!"  The Hunter watched the Wizard dodge the curse and dive behind a tree.  

"On the contrary," said the Wizard over his shoulder.  He was trying to pinpoint the exact location of the Hunter.  "I have locked her power to her new form and without a proper spell or potion, she may not be changed back against her will.  You will never get her blood for the Dark Lord, do you understand me?  I suggest you formulate an idea about where else you can acquire what your master needs.  I am under the impression that he tends to be unforgiving regarding failure.  Please send my regrets to the Dark Lord that he shall not be sacrificing this one."

"That's what you think I'll be doing," snarled the Hunter.  He was afraid; the blasted wizard was right about what the Dark Lord would do to those who failed him.  "But she can't stay like that forever, immortal or no.  You locked away her power, aye, but you locked away her life giving grace as well."  He gave an evil chuckle.  "She can die now, wizard; just as easily as you or me.  An illness, a curse, the possibilities are endless.  Not to mention she looks a little green around the edges there.  She might not like being a mortal.  Maybe I should help her end her misery, eh?"

The Wizard turned swiftly around the tree the words leaving his lips… a shielding charm directed at the woman.  He couldn't see the Hunter, didn't even know if he was still here after that parting shot.  He cautiously went to stand besides the woman, ever on the alert.   

"You'll have to return her to her true form sometime soon."  The disembodied voice of the Hunter wafted in his direction.  "And I'd much rather have her dead as a unicorn than as a woman.  Make no mistake though; she will die either way for your intervention.  I'll be waiting." Before the Wizard could react, the Hunter appeared out of the brush a couple of meters in front of him only to vanish into the forest gloom.

The Wizard looked over to what used to be the insensate Unicorn.  She was feebly trying to stand but could only manage to kneel in the dirt.  He took in her new features, bemused by his work.  She wasn't a delicate woman.  She was too tall to start, and her limbs were sturdy looking, like an ancient Greek Amazon.  She had long hair.  _Correct that, he thought,__ her hair is reaching all way down to her knees and it's tripping her up.  Her milk-white skin glowed with luminescence against her raven black hair.  But it was her eyes that held him still.  The stars reflected in the depths of her eyes, the dark smoky night of her pupils. Like windows into the soul, he should have seen her's in them.  He saw instead what he could only inadequately label as 'Magic's soul'.  That immeasurable part of magic that couldn't be brewed or bottled, never crafted into a charm, unseen by even the most powerful of wizards.  _

"Who are you?" The words left her lips on a whimper.  She was confused to hear the sound of a voice emanate from herself.  She didn't normally have a voice, not one that could be heard.  She couldn't get to her feet.  _What is wrong with me, _she thought.  "What have you done to me?"  She heard the wavering tone in that new voice of hers.  She looked down at her hands.  _By Avalon, she thought, __I have HANDS.  Where are my hooves?  Where is my--.   Fear shot through her as she considered the ramifications of her new form.  It was a new form to her eyes; she had never been mortal.  Her wrist was still throbbing in pain.  She studied the man looming above her.  _No_, she corrected herself,_ he is a wizard.  _From her kneeling position at the Wizard's feet, she could see there was incongruity to his features.  It appeared to her as if he had two sets of faces.  He had shoulder length black hair, but it looked as if he hadn't combed or washed it since the Great Migration.  A high collared white cravat and tightly buttoned black body vest hugged his torso.  Slim hips and long legs were encased in black cotton trousers, and ended in rough leather boots.  A plain black robe and cloak with a green and silver pin completed his outfit._  I am beginning to sense a theme with the black_.  Her gaze traveled back up toward the Wizard's face again.  Unfortunately, the events of the morning were catching up to her newer, more fragile form.  The man's face began to waver in her vision as the adrenaline in her system wore off and shock took a hold of her.  Blackness engulfed her, sending her spiraling into unconsciousness and to the ground.  _

The Wizard looked down at the woman in surprise.  Then he cursed himself for not reacting sooner.  He bent down and carefully wrapped her into his cloak before picking her up, keeping her cradled in his arms.   The Wizard confirmed his first assumption about her person.  She was a rather sturdy lady.  He staggered once and then righted himself immediately.  He pulled one edge of the cloak to cover her face; it wouldn't do for a student to know what he was carrying into the school.  As he did so, he noted the tiny black star shaped scar on her forehead, frowning.  It was almost 6:00 am in the morning by his inner time clock, which meant he had better get back to the castle.  He shivered in the morning air and began walking towards the grounds of Hogwarts, unsure of what he had wrought with his meddling.


	2. Chapter Two

            The Wizard strode up to the castle, entering from a side entrance from the east.   He bypassed the ghosts and Argus Filch on the main floor, heading toward the dungeons.  Down the stairs into the depths of the dungeons he walked, and into a section of the Hogwarts Potions Master's private quarters.  

"_Lumos__," murmured the Wizard, and the candles blazed to life, casting eerie shadows along the walls.  The fireplace roared to life with the simple incantation.  He walked over to the back wall of the room and laid his precious bundle on the velvety soft black divan.  He checked for injuries that he might have missed, having being preoccupied with the battle.  He noted with relief that her breathing was even and unlabored.  He quickly examined the rest of her, checking for broken bones or scrapes.  Her right wrist looked badly scratched, but other than that, she seemed in fine shape.  The cloak covered her with the barest modesty, leaving her long white limbs exposed to his gaze.  The Wizard shifted his gaze to her face to find her lips full and soft looking, almost inviting.  A snort of self disgust left the Wizard's mouth before he walked over to the fire place.  He looked over the mantle before seeing the bag that he wanted.  Withdrawing a handful of colored sand from the bag, he threw it into the fire._

"Albus Dumbledore!" said the Wizard.  A tall, elderly, and wizened gentleman's head appeared in the fire.  Perched on his head was a purple velvet nightcap with silver bells hanging off the top point.  Wiry hair stuck out from under the cap at odd angles, indicating that the gentleman might have only just risen.  A white beard trailed down his chest until it was clouded over by flames.  His tired blue eyes brightened considerably upon seeing his summoner.  

"Severus!  I hope things went well tonight.  The fire isn't being monitored so you can give me your report," said Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and leader of the spectacular Order of the Phoenix.

"Actually, Headmaster, the evening was uneventful until I arrived at the castle grounds.  It seems Voldemort is in need of a fresh infusion of unicorn blood and he sent the Hunter to the Forbidden Forest," replied Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House and Potions Professor at Hogwarts.

"Good Heavens, Severus!  I will be down to join you shortly; he must not get his hands on the Unicor--", began Dumbledore worriedly.  He partially turned away from the fire.

"Headmaster, I have already intercepted the Hunter and prevented him from killing the Unicorn.  However my methods were accomplished in haste and I'm afraid it may bring dire consequences," interrupted Snape with a sour twist to his expression.  

"Meet me in my office, then," replied Dumbledore, and his image faded from the fireplace.  Snape looked down upon the woman on the divan, and conjured up a blanket to keep her warm.  As he exited the dungeons, he placed a ward on the doors and continued on his way.

                                    *                       *                       *                       *

            The Unicorn awoke to amber light and the feel of something very soft beneath her cheek.     She took unsteadily to her feet, leaning upon the divan for support and looked around in awe.  Hurt wrist forgotten for the moment, she took an opportunity to look around her new surroundings.  A large lit fireplace dominated the room, its two side pillars decorated with sinuous dragons wrapped around rowan trees.  The light from the flames spilled out into the room which had iron candelabra in all four corners.  A thick carpet covered the floor between the fireplace and the divan.  An oak table with 2 chairs stood off the right side, a chess battle incomplete sitting on top.  She moved toward the table running her delicate fingers over the ivory playing pieces, marveling at their appearance. _They look like Brownies though,_ she thought. _ I don't remember Brownies with miniature horses or knight's armor in all my years in the forest.  _Her hand brushed a castle-like figure, and it clattered on to its side, startling her.  To the left side, a secretariat and chair stood next to a table will with all forms of pots, pans, liquid jars and bubbling concoctions.  One of them was a dazzling green, and she awkwardly ventured over to the table to stare at the bubbles and their fragile popping noises.  She bent closer to sniff but was repelled by the odor and turned her head away.  She found herself facing the fire place.  

She stood spellbound in wonder at her image suspended above the mantle.  She walked closer to it and saw herself in the mirror do the same.  Before the mirror stood she stood as a young woman, tall, with skin like fine porcelain, blue veins delicately visible here and there, trembling like a leaf in the autumn wind.  Long-- almost floor length raven black hair fell in waves along her shoulders to just above her knees. She had arms and legs and all the other parts of a mortal woman.  It was the eyes though, that belied her mortal state, for they contained the light of the stars in the heavens against a midnight blue backdrop.  Her lips were petal pink, full and beckoning with invitation.  She touched them softly, feeling the sensation burn into her memory.  Upon her forehead lay a dark star, smooth where her horn should be.   Then, like a roaring tide, memories of the pool, the early morning, the Hunter, falling, hurting, white light and a man's face, a confusing jumble of unexpected emotions caused her to whirl around looking for the nearest exit.  She saw the door behind her and headed straight for it her hands tingling as she grasped the door handle before wrenching it open and fleeing into the castle.

                                    *                       *                       *                       *

            Snape walked through the corridors toward Dumbledore's office.  His mind was very jumbled and confused.  He felt guilty and victorious.  He felt responsible for the fragile creature slumbering in his rooms.   He was certain that he had tampered with something that he should not have.  Not that he regretted saving her, but his method could have been a little more refined.  _It IS_ my fault.  I should have thought of another way to save the Unicorn.  Now she's...I don't know what she is anymore_.  Snape sighed to himself inside.  __No use recriminating myself, it's not like I haven't done worse than transfigure someone.  Except she isn't just someone.  She's supposed to be the embodiment of grace, hope, protection, and all that is good in the world, untouched and without flaw.  At least that is what all the legends say.  And by making her human and mortal I've made her vulnerable and…flawed, like any muggle or wizard.  Snape snapped out of his reverie as he arrived at the Gargoyle.  "Marmalade Toffee Treats", said Snape with a curl to his thin lips.  He really hated those passwords.  And up he went._

                                    *                       *                       *                       *

            She ran through many corridors and stairways that were filled with strange things, and strange beings.  The stones beneath her unshod feet were rough and she was breathing hard.  She stopped to collect her thoughts.  She felt off-kilter.  She wasn't used to running on two legs.  And the more she ran, the more lost she became until she didn't even think she could find the room she woke up in.   She tried to invoke some of her innate magic, to calm herself down and get a clear idea of what was going on with her.  Nothing happened when she called it.   It felt like it was locked away, for it had fled when she lost her immortality.  She leaned against the wall for support as much as to catch her breath.  Now that she had time to reflect on her mad dash, she found it one of the most foolish things to do.   _Only a newborn colt would be so foolhardy, she thought.  _I am much wiser individual than that._  _

"Hey you! Hey there!" said a voice. "I've never seen you before… how did you get in?"  The Unicorn looked around but saw no one.  Only an empty corridor filled with paintings met her gaze in front of her and an equally empty stairwell behind her.

"Up here! Up more, a little to the right...There! See me waving?" asked the voice.  The Unicorn pinpointed the voice to a painting with a man in bright armor waving at her.  He was inside the painting, actually.  A knight in a painting was waving at her and talking to her.  She felt bewildered because she couldn't even figure out if he was magical or just a hallucination.  Her sense felt deadened.  

"I'm sorry, I don't understand everything yet.  Are you a painting?  A mortal portrait?" asked the Unicorn.  He seemed to be hopping from painting to painting.  

"Well, yes I am, but I'm also the brave and honorable Sir Cadogan, Guardian of Hogwarts!" announced Sir Cadogan.  "And it remains to be seen who YOU are.  You had better not be up to no good or I shall have to challenge you to a duel!" 

"Ah, well, Sir Cadogan, you see, I'm a bit lost.  I am not trying to cause trouble.  I don't wish to duel you and I could really use some help," replied the Unicorn.  She gripped the cloak and blanket tighter around herself.  She prepared to bolt at the least sign of provocation.  

"Oh my, are you a genuine Damsel-In-Distress?  Indeed, I can see that you are my fair maiden.  Fear not, I, Sir Cadogan, am on the Quest.  Just tell me, fair lady, whether I may escort you," gushed Sir Cadogan.  Sir Cadogan was very excited by the prospect of having his own adventure.  He had always envisioned himself as a hero ever since he substituted for the Fat Lady of Gryffindor Tower.  

"Well, this is the castle on the edge of the Forest, I assume?" asked the Unicorn.  In a moment of lucidity, for she was feeling very confused, she recognized the Knight-In-Shining-Armor Syndrome, and relaxed.

"Indeed my lady, this is THE Hogwarts by the Forbidden Forest, lead by the most brilliant wizard alive, Albus Dumbledore!" exclaimed Sir Cadogan.  "In fact, I can lead you straight to his office, my lady."  He straightened his posture and secretly wished he still had Charger, his noble steed.

"Is he the elderly gentleman that likes candied sweets and wears colorful clothing all the time?" asked the Unicorn.  The Unicorn felt certain it was the same Albus she was acquainted with.

"Indeed he is! The very same," said Sir Cadogan.  "If anyone can help you, miss, it would be Albus Dumbledore!"  

"Then by all means, Sir Cadogan, please lead on.  I am in dire need and I must see him," said the Unicorn.  She really did think the knight in the painting was a kindly gentleman.  _Or is it kindly portrait?_  She thought to herself.  

"Follow me, my lady, and I shall protect you along the way; you must stay close," said Sir Cadogan.  He began to flit from picture to picture, making his way along the walls of the castle, the Unicorn right beside him.

                                    *                       *                       *                       *

"That is quite a story, Severus." said Dumbledore.  "How did you know to go into the Forest in the first place?"  Dumbledore's voice held a note of query.  He considered the disheveled young wizard now running his hands over his face removing a blur charm.  Dumbledore had to make several decisions at once, and none of them were going to please the younger man.  

"I overheard Voldemort talking to Pettigrew about his new shipment of immortality and that Pettigrew was to make certain he was on hand to receive it.  He added that it would be a creature most dear to you and it would wound you if he managed to get it from right under your nose.  He mentioned his operative had last contacted him from Hogsmeade," said Severus.  "Obviously, I wasn't meant to hear that conversation, so I stayed to allay any suspicions, and then Apparated to the gates.  I decided to have a look around in the forest, though I hadn't ever remembered a Unicorn dwelling there for some time.  Not since Quirrell, in fact, I assumed Voldemort had hunted them all down when he had the chance.  There was no harm in investigating however, so in I went.  I was just going to leave the forest when I heard a commotion from deeper in and discovered the Dark Lord's Hunter giving chase to the Unicorn.  He was about to kill her, and I intervened," explained Severus.  

Dumbledore sat in his office chair, absently stroking Fawkes, his phoenix and longtime companion.  He was dressed in a cheery yellow silk smoking jacket that went splendidly with his purple velvet nightcap and matching night shirt.  Snape was his customary, fashionable self, draped in all black, ensconced in a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.  His robes were dusty from his earlier scuffle.  He sat hunched in the chair, his black lanky hair in over his face.  The beginnings of a truly heinous Snape Scowl were forming on his face.  Indeed, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would have recognized that look, having been on the receiving end of it the last five years.   

"And it is a good thing that you did," said Dumbledore with an approving nod. "She is the last in the Forbidden Forest, indeed the last in all Northern Britain, since Voldemort hunted down the others of her kind to stay alive," he added sadly.  He conjured himself up some tea, and began to serve himself.  

"Forgive my impertinence, but don't you think you should have told the staff about her existence?" asked Snape irritably.  "You've lead us to believe there were none left in these parts since we unmasked Quirrell.  We could have taken better precautions; we could have prevented this from happening at all!" Snape began angrily.  He shifted awkwardly.  He wasn't used to feeling so accountably guilty.  Guilt wasn't part of being a top notch Slytherin.  It belonged to those who could afford to look and act the fool.  Gryffindors, for example, could be counted on to make absolute cakes of themselves and enjoy it, in Snape's opinion.   

"I'm sorry, Severus, but I thought it best that she remain lost in knowledge.  I have known her for a good portion of my life and I do care much for her well being.  I did everything I could to hide her presence.  I led her to the deepest parts of the Forest myself; she should never have been discovered by the Hunter," said Dumbledore.  "Tea?" he asked.  Dumbledore settled back into his chair with a sigh as Snape shook his head in negation.  "How would you like cookies No, crackers?  No, what about a nice muffin or biscuit?"    

"No thank you, Headmaster, I prefer coffee.  If you are interested in what I do like, I'll tell you.  Instead of all the wonderful pleasantries we are currently exchanging, could we please return to the topic of how to fix the Unicorn's predicament?" answered Snape in acid tones.  "She seemed less than thrilled at being rescued."  

"It would be a simple matter to transfigure her back," said Dumbledore. "When she wakes up, just bring her to me.  We have managed to keep Firenze situated satisfactorily and I daresay we could make her quite comfortable until we apprehend the Hunter.  Maybe she can give Hagrid a hand with Care of Magical Creatures."  There was a definite twinkle in the Headmaster's eye at the thought.

"That's not going to be possible," said Snape crossly, growing even more ill-tempered at the thought of that ridiculous Giant-kin using the Unicorn in a teaching lesson.  "She won't transfigure back.  I changed it to a _Geas-Spell to prevent the Hunter or anyone else from changing her back until certain--requirements are met."  Snape leveled his gaze at the Headmaster, who had suddenly grown very quiet, his eyes narrowing._

"Severus, what have you done?" whispered the Headmaster, considering the younger man seated before him.

"What I thought would save her," he answered tiredly.

                        *                       *                       *                       *

"Right here, my lady," said Sir Cadogan cheerfully.  "Safe and sound at the Headmaster's Office." They stood before a large stone gargoyle at the base of one of the towers on the second floor.    Or at least the Unicorn was.  Sir Cadogan rested in a painting on the opposite wall of the Gargoyle.  The Unicorn had a hard time following him, for he seemed to only glide along portraits and the staircases and corridors were in constant motion.  _One could get easily lost_, she thought.  

"Thank you, Sir Cadogan," replied the Unicorn.  "But where is the door handle?" she asked.  All she saw was a stone statue of a Gargoyle who might or might not be real.

"Oh, it's a secret door, you know," said Sir Cadogan airily, waving his hand about.  "Need to know the password to go in or you'll be out here all day."  He shifted from foot to foot in the portrait frame along the wall of, thankfully for his rather fragile courage, a landscape.    He had been afraid that she would notice that he avoided the more aggressive paintings.  "You do know the password, don't you?" he asked, looking worried.  Indeed, the knight had a bit of time to study his Damsel.  He noticed her ragged state of clothing.  _Merlin, was she wearing a SLYTHERIN cape?  She had a patchy knowledge of the castle, indeed of everything they talked about.  He also noticed she wasn't carrying a wand like most wizards.  She was in a word, peculiar.  _

"I'm afraid I don't," said the Unicorn.  "Do you not know it?"  She looked imploringly at the portrait of the knight who was shifting from foot to foot.  

"I--I----," he stuttered.  "I don't, but I know who does, and let me tell you, there is no greater hero than Harry Potter.  Well, except for myself, of course.  Stay right here, my lady, I shall fetch him for you."  The knight began to zoom down the corridor portraits.

"Wait!" she cried.  But the knight was already gone.  She turned around and began to contemplate the gargoyle.  _Who in the WORLD is Harry Potter, she thought._

                        *                       *                       *                       *

            It was Harry, Ron's and Hermione's 6th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  It was in fact, their first day of class, and they were getting ready to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast when they heard a commotion at the front door to the Gryffindor common room.  Over the summer, Harry had grown four inches, although he was still thin and lanky for a young man of 16.  His eyes though… in those green depths lay the experiences of a much older individual.  Pain, loss and suffering chiseled his features as if they were carved from stone.  His hair remained problematic; never tamable, it stuck out all over the place.   Ron, however, was the most changed from over the summer.  His red hair smoothed out to a warm copper, and his freckles have had mostly disappeared, except for a few that marched along the bridge of his nose like a line of tin soldiers.  Those attributes, along with a considerable gain in height and a spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, already have had a number of fourth and fifth year girls sighing in his direction.  Hermione, however, hadn't grown a single inch over the summer, poor girl.  She had, thanks to beauty tips from Lavender and Parvarti, tamed her hair to a manageable amount of waviness with honey accents.   She finally was also able to regulate her old braces and retainer to the farthest corner of her bathroom cabinet.   Her brown eyes were alight with excitement and pleasure to begin the new school term.  Both Ron and Hermione were busily pinning themselves with their Prefect badges.  They had responsibilities to uphold.

"What in the world is all that racket?" noticed Ron.  At the moment, it was only he, Harry and Hermione in the common room, and the escalating sounds of an argument were permeating through the door.

"I have no idea," said Hermione, turning her ear toward the sounds.

"It sounds like-," began Harry, starting toward the door.

"I say, you old bat, open this door!" yelled a strident voice full of bellicose purpose.  "I have an URGENT quest to complete for my lady and YOU are in the way!"  All three students looked at each other questioningly, before recogniztion dawned.

"Sir Cadogan," they said in unison.  They walked toward portrait hole, opening it and looked at the portrait's side.  There they saw the Fat Lady and Sir Cadogan embroiled in a face-to-face scuffle across the painting.  Closing the door, they spread out facing the portrait, bewildered by the sight of their beloved Tower Guardian and the Knight of Hogwarts hurling epithets at each other.

"What's going on?" asked Harry.  "Sir Cadogan, why are you fighting with the Fat Lady?"  He stood between the other two, eyes full of concern, observing the fight.  Sir Cadogan disengaged himself from the melee and faced Harry.  He was flushed in the face, and breathing rather hard.  The Fat Lady moved a bit over to the side of the painting, grumbling as she did so.

"Harry! Harry Potter!" exclaimed the knight.  "I have a lady in need of assistance.  She needs to see the Headmaster but she doesn't know the password.  I thought a smart fellow like you would know.  Besides I know you're chummy with Dumbledore."

"Maybe the Headmaster didn't send for her if she doesn't know the password," said Hermione forthrightly.  "He's a very busy man, Sir Cadogan, and if it's a student they really should go to their Head of House," she finished.

"I don't think she's a student, Miss Granger; she's looks a bit old to be one," explained Sir Cadogan.  "She's also barefoot, in nothing but a cloak and blanket, and no one seems to know where she came from, she just appeared."

"But no one can Apparate into Hogwarts," said Ron.  "Everyone knows that.  It's just not done."  Ron's stomach gave a small protest at not being fed immediately upon wakening.  

"I didn't say she Apparated," said the knight.  "She just came streaking down a hallway from who knows where, she's confused, and well, doesn't seem to be all there in the wits department, and she really, really wants to speak to the Headmaster."

"I suppose we should investigate this and perhaps go help her out," said Harry.  "Lead on, Sir Cadogan."  Harry was wildly curious about this young woman.  Here was something vaguely heroic that didn't include dueling with Voldemort.

"But we'll miss breakfast!" exclaimed Ron.  His stomach growled again.  "And I'm HUNGRY."  He turned a surly look toward a retreating Sir Cadogan.  "Can't it wait? Or maybe she can wait for the Headmaster to come down."  He looked toward his two friends who were at the moment following the knight along the walls.  Hermione looked back and pinned him with a withering look that clearly stated that 'insensitive git' was tattooed on his forehead.  "All right then, wait up, I'm coming."

The trio arrived at the Gargoyle of Dumbledore's office, Sir Cadogan leading the way.  They stopped to stare at the Unicorn, who was busy muttering odd things under her breath toward the statue.  She stood tall, wearing a long black cloak skimming to her ankles.  A black blanket covered her shoulders secured with her left hand.  Her feet were bare, and she was chewing on her bottom lip.    Her long black hair reached her knees and shimmered with each shake of her head.  Harry was struck mute for a second.  Ron gaped like a fish.  Hermione with her usual sensible self studied the woman intently.

"Sprinkled Stars.  No that's not it.   Stone Wizard.  Forbidden Forest.  No not those.  Daylight, Dark Night, Evil's Bane, Glorious Winter, Withered Summer, Magical Something-or-Other!" exclaimed the Unicorn, her voice raising and rising tears of frustration in her eyes.  She turned to her left, aware of the newcomers.

"My lady, my lady, I've brought some help.  This is Mr. Harry Potter, Mr. Ronald Weasley, and Miss Hermione Granger," introduced Sir Cadogan, indicating each person.  "They are excellent friends of Dumbledore and will take good care of you.  Now I must be off to my own portrait, it wouldn't do to be absent too long from it."  Sir Cadogan began to drift back the way he came.  The three students looked at the Unicorn, noting her appearance, the black star upon her forehead, and became stock still as they beheld her star filled eyes.  It was Ron who noticed what she was wearing. 

"That's Snape's cloak." He pointed toward the emblem of Slytherin House on the right shoulder.  "What are you doing in that?"   He eyed her suspiciously.  Anyone associated with the slimy git in Ron's opinion was up to no good.  No matter how good looking she was.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Ron, don't be thick," began Hermione.  "It's obvious she's wearing that cloak because he rescued her from one of the Death Eater raids or some such.  Isn't that what's he supposed to do, in addition to spying?"  She tilted her head to the side examining the woman from head to toe.  Hermione wasn't sure if the older woman had ulterior motives or not.  She was going to study her until she came to a definite conclusion, though.

"I doubt he did it out of sympathy," said Harry tightly.  He still hadn't forgiven Snape for his part in Sirius's death.  He came forward laid a hand on the Unicorn's shoulder.  "Is that what happened ma'am?  Did Snape rescue you from the Death Eaters?" he asked

"I--I--I don't know what a Death Eater is," began the Unicorn, feeling uncomfortable under their intense gazes.  "I'm from what the wizards call the Forbidden Forest, and I was attacked.  A wizard in black robes saved me from the Hunter.  But I fainted and woke up here.  I'm not myself though, I'm not myself.  I'm not supposed to have two legs and I need to stay hidden from the world, and my thoughts won't stay straight.  I feel like I have too many thoughts in my head.  The only person who can help me is a wizard named Albus.  Please help me reach him, please," she begged them.  She looked from one face to another, pleading with her eyes, her very posture.

"It is going to be all right," said Hermione.  "We'll help you."  She gave a look to the two boys as she approached the Unicorn.  "Just tell us why you need help; maybe we can do something to help you as well."  She laid her hand on the Unicorn's other shoulder.  

The Unicorn shuddered from the sensation and said, "Because I am not the woman you see, I am a Unicorn, and if I do not return to my form, I fear for my sanity and well-being."  The Unicorn looked at each face registering the shock that appeared on each of their faces.  "The man in dark robes and dark hair changed me I think, while I was being hunted," she started to explain.  "I woke up here and I must talk to Albus."  The Unicorn held on to that thought like a lifeline in a sea of new thoughts and sensation.

"Well," said Harry grimly.  "Why don't we go see the Headmaster now?  I wonder how that bloody bastard is going to explain this away."  And he stood in front of the Gargoyle.  Harry was feeling the familiar hatred that had kept him going through his confinement at the Dursley's during the summer holidays

"But Harry, she's balmy!" said Ron.  "What she said can't be true.  That story makes Loony Lovegood sound like she spews the gospel truth!"  But Harry had already made up his mind and was leading the Unicorn up the revealed stairway.  Ron sighed and followed him up.

"Harry..." said Hermione warningly.  "Listen to Ron; he is making sense for once."  But Harry had already said 'Marmalade Toffee Treats, and was traveling up the stair case, Ron and Unicorn in tow.  So she brought up the rear.

*                       *                       *                       *

"So as you can see, we have to remove the threat of the Hunter before we can change her back," explained Severus.  He was irritated, tired, and he had to teach his first class soon if the clock in Dumbledore's office was actually telling time.  He pinched the bridge of his nose to alleviate the oncoming headache pressure.  A long night coupled with an exhaustive interview was sapping his patience.

"I see," began Dumbledore.  "Well, as term has started, how do you plan to go about it, I ask?  You certainly cannot go off into the Forest every day to search him out.  You have classes.  And now you have blown your cover with the Dark Lord because his agent SAW you!" he thundered.  Albus Dumbledore did not become angry often.  He did not become angry lightly.  So when Dumbledore finally did become angry, it was like being in the middle of thunderstorm complete with bright lightning.  If Snape had been less irritated and angry himself, he would have been fully able to appreciate this fact.

"The Hunter will not contact Voldemort until the deed is done for fear of the risk of alerting you," retorted Snape with not so little heat in his words.  "I heard as much from the conversation I eavesdropped on.  Not to mention that I did use a blurring charm to disguise myself.  Now if you will excuse me, I have breakfast and classes to prepare for."  Snape stood up, and stopped as a knock sounded on the door.  Dumbledore sighed.  "Come in," he said.  The wooden door opened revealing Harry, Ron, Hermione...and the Unicorn.  Harry looked at the rumpled Potions Master with thinly veiled hostility before plunging into his story immediately.

"Professor Dumbledore, Sir Cadogan found her trying to get to you, but he didn't know the password so he came to Ron, Hermione and I, and well, we talked to her and led her up here," said Harry hurriedly, shooting a nasty look at Snape.  Snape hadn't moved since the door opened.  He barely registered Harry's words or the tone of his voice.

"I hope it's all right that we did," added Hermione hurriedly.  "We really didn't know what to do".

"Nothing except embroil yourselves in other people's business as usual," snarled Snape, coming to his senses.  "Can't live without some kind of glory, eh?"  If looks could kill, the Dream Team would be six feet under.  The Unicorn looked at the tall man, a memory tugging at her brain.  Recollection finally hit as she matched his current face to the one from the forest.

"You!" she accused.  The Unicorn strode forward into the room, more at ease on two legs.  She kept a finger pointed at Snape, advancing on the rapidly paling man.  "You are the one who changed me, the one from the forest.  WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?"   She pinned him with the force of her gaze.  Snape was wincing with each word that passed her lips.  Dumbledore motioned for Harry, Ron and Hermione to leave.  Harry opened his mouth to argue, but a look from the powerful Headmaster silenced him.   Hermione and Ron dragged him off to the Great Hall.

"Shining One," began Dumbledore, addressing the Unicorn.  The Unicorn looked at him.  "You have known this was a possibility since the day I came to you and implored you to hide.  I warned you that the Dark Lord would hunt you down to slay you for your life's blood.  It just happened with less forewarning than I thought possible."  He held both hands out to the Unicorn, who turned from him.  She couldn't bear what she had become.  She looked around the room, distracted, seeing it in the shape of the circle.  There was another door at the far end of the room, behind a large desk at which Dumbledore was standing behind.  A Phoenix sat on a perch examining her with keen interest.  On the desk were dozens of sheets of paper held down by whizzing silver instruments.  A cabinet stood off to one side, the door slightly ajar, revealing a soft silver light, emanating.  On the wall behind the desk was mounted an impressive sword, ancient and with power.  It brought to her attention all the living portraits along the walls up to the ceiling, all gazing down at the melodrama unfolding in vivid interest.  

"You have to change me back, this is not normal for myself," said the Unicorn, looking from one man to the other.  "I'm filled with unfamiliar sensations.  My mind is confused and clouded.  It is difficult to concentrate like I am used to. My magical senses are blunted and dull and I cannot feel a thing in those ways.  Other abilities lay dormant and do not respond to my invocations."  Tears filled her eyes and began to trail her downy cheeks to fall to the floor.   Snape rubbed his chest where a sudden tightening, almost to pain, presented itself.

"We cannot change you back.  The spell requires the Hunter to be apprehended first for that to happen," explained Dumbledore.  "Until then, though, we will take care of you as best we can.  And we will research ways of helping you cope with your new found humanity.  Now let us fix your attire."  With a swish and flick of his wand, along with a minor incantation, Dumbledore conjured a long black velvet gown appearing on the Unicorn.  It clung slightly off the shoulders with gold braid trim at the top, at the tip of long sleeves and the bottom of the hem.  Black heeled slippers appeared on her feet.  Her long hair plaited itself, resting along her back and a thick golden circlet appeared hiding the night star upon her forehead.

"When--when will that happen?" asked the Unicorn.  She rubbed her hands along her arms to warm herself up just a bit.  She liked the feel of the velvet.  It was soft and warm.  She was still clutching the cloak though.

"I don't know, Shining One," replied Dumbledore.  "I leave that task to Severus, who has asked for it.  It should not be too long though.  The Hunter cannot hide from us."  He looked at her, aching from the bottom of his soul.  To see such a creature suffering, confused and in pain made him feel so very inadequate.  "But we will do everything we can."

The Unicorn whirled to look towards Snape.  "You should have let me die, Wizard," she said with despairingly.  "Better to be dead, to have let the Hunter take me, than to be here, like this, in this dying body."  Snape flinched under her tear stained regard.  He couldn't think of a single word to say to her.  He had never been at a loss for words save for a few times in his youth, but nothing came to mind.  In that moment, he hated her, hated everything she represented.  She was too busy wallowing in self-pity about her lost purity or spirit.  Someone else would be sacrificed to keep her hands clean.  Someone else would have to bear the burden.  He wished he had killed her.  Shame filled him at the thought.  It was a familiar felling so he let it stay.  

The Unicorn looked down at the body and mind that was not her own and screamed in protest of the pain of her loss.  "End it!" she sobbed, sliding to the floor, face in her hands.  "I can not stay like this," she whispered.    Dumbledore toward Snape, who knelt beside her, taking her hands in his own.  He lifted his right hand to her cheek and turned it face to him.  He was humbled by the swirling emotions swimming in her eyes.  He had to say something.  He forced the words out of his strangled throat.

"I cannot grant your wish.   Ask me anything and I will do it, but never that," Snape said fiercely.  "I will not let you die.  I have seen much that is dark and ugly.  I have done unspeakable things.  You are like a beautiful light that lives to counters that.  I will not see another dark deed flourish over the death of something decent and good.  I will not rest until I have brought the Hunter down.  You will see the forest again and you will run through its hollows. That is my vow to you."  Snape looked into her eyes almost forgetting to breathe.  "Trust me," he said softly.  The Unicorn nodded in agreement.  He helped her to her feet.  They both looked over to the Headmaster, still holding hands.

"Well, I'm glad that's settled," said Dumbledore cheerily.  "Now where are we to keep you?  There is some room in the Astronomy Tower, a store room we can convert to house you in the interim."  The Unicorn interrupted.

"If you please, somewhere along the ground," she said.  "I seem to have a fear of high places.  I found this out when Sir Cadogan lead me across a balcony, and one of the higher staircases, and one--" she faltered, not knowing the name of the object.

"Oh I see, well, I'll have to ask Minerva about rooms on the ground floor, I suppose," mused Dumbledore.   He swished his wand about himself and was instantly attired in heavy silk maroon robes with white lacing and a matching cap, the point hanging over his right ear.  

"What about the room or place that I woke up in?" inquired the Unicorn.  "It seemed very close to the ground."

"Those are part of my private rooms and the dungeons to start with," informed Snape.  "You cannot stay there.  I won't permit it."  He seemed embarrassed over his earlier words and was back to being cross.  He was planning on becoming a good deal more cross as soon as he reached his classroom.

"Now Severus, that's very unkind," said Dumbledore knowingly, "Is there no way you can see to preparing even _one of the rooms for her private use.  There are so many rooms in the dungeons."_

"Please," asked the Unicorn, looking at Snape imploringly.  "Please let me stay, Severus."  His gut tightened upon hearing his name on her lips.   Looking at her was a mistake he knew, but he did it anyway.  In less than a second, like a besotted fool, he found himself agreeing.  _Merlin's Beard, I must be guilt ridden_, he thought to himself. 

"I'm sure I can create suitable accommodations, especially with some help from those lazy house-elves you insist on keeping out of clothes," Snape said, scowling.  He was already beginning to regret his decision.  The Unicorn leaned up to nuzzle his cheek with hers in thanks.  It was the Unicorn's way of thanks.  Severus stood stock still, rigid.  He felt his heart speed up and something close to electric shock ripple through his body.  He decided to label it a pseudo-heart attack and leave it at that. 

"Thank you," she said softly.

"My pleasure, I assure you, after all, it is my fault you are in this predicament and it is only just that I should help you get acclimated to your new surroundings," answered Snape, taking a step back from her and dropping her hands.  _Yes_, thought Snape, _just look at it like a new responsibility.  _"What happened to your hands?" Snape snatched her hands back up, ignoring her sound of protest.  He found livid welt marks along her palms, red and angry marks that must be causing considerable pain.  

"Iron," she gasped in discomfort, explaining.  "Your doors contain iron handles, and they will pain a fey creature such as myself.  I cannot heal wounds of iron very quickly."  She tried to tug her hands away but Snape held firm.  He could also see the wrist injury he had noted earlier. 

"I will take you straight to our resident school nurse, Madame Pomfrey.  She will help you out as best she can," said Snape.  He changed his grip to her left wrist and began to lead her toward the door.

"Severus," called Dumbledore.  He got an impatient look from Snape for his trouble.  "One last thing; we cannot go around introducing her as the Shining One or Unicorn.  She will need a name.  I was thinking...Griselda Albia would sound nice."  He beamed at the scowling younger man.

"That is an absolutely horrid name," said Snape with disgust.  Dumbledore chuckled with mirth.  "It doesn't fit her at all."  He looked down at the Unicorn, who was looking up at him.

"Then what would you suggest, dear boy?" asked the Headmaster, eyeing him with some question.  Dumbledore thought it would be good for Snape to immerse himself in a project that didn't force him to witness or participate in horrid acts of violence.  Indeed this might remind Severus what the Order was fighting for.

"She has the favored look of an aunt of mine; her name was Isabella Stornet," replied Snape.  "Isabel Solus is an adequate derivative.  I think that will do just fine."  He noticed the Unicorn nodding as if in agreement. 

"I like it very much.  Thank you," Isabel said, smiling up at him.


	3. Chapter Three

Snape led Isabel hurriedly down the corridors and stairways to the Hospital Wing on the third floor.  He was careful not to touch or jostle her blistered hands, and made sure none of the iron door handles touched her sensitive flesh.  As they were walking, he started to have an epic argument with himself.  _I should not have agreed to the arrangements_, he thought.  _I should have let McGonagall handle it.  She would love nothing more than to stick her oar in as a third rudder.  All that noble Gryffindor moral fiber was just begging for an outlet.  Maybe I shall do that once I deliver her to Madam Pomfrey.  _A deep silence indicated a smaller part of his thoughts surfacing.  The other voice in his head spoke up.  _Nevertheless, you ARE responsible for her predicament, you conceited arse.  You may have dug yourself a hole to hide in where Lily and James were concerned, but this is not 16 years ago.  You have destroyed the essence of that young...woman, for lack of a better description.  You can very well see to it that she lives through this and does not end up on Voldemort's plate like a banquet dinner.  He looked at Isabel trailing along at his side like a wraith.  He himself was a tall man and tended to loom over others to intimidate them into doing what he wanted.  She was only three inches shorter than he was, though.  _So no looming over her, I suppose,_ he thought.  That particular fact limited his choices on how to deal with her._

Isabel studied the man that was leading her to the Healer.  To her, Severus Snape looked like a harsh man.  He looked like a man who hadn't been happy for a long time.  She wondered why he bothered with her at all if he was always so ill tempered.  She was embarrassed by her rather emotional scene in from of Albus.  She never lost control like that.  It was the new body with all of its new sensations and feelings.  She was going to have to master it quickly or she would be of no use to anyone.  She would lose what little of herself there was left.  Still, she could afford to be charitable to this man.  They stopped in front of double wooden doors. 

"Here we are, the Hospital Wing.," announced Snape inanely.  He winced, feeling like he had lost control of the situation, drowning in a farce.  _Get a hold of yourself, Snape, he ordered himself.  He led Isabel through the double doors.  Inside, a bustling Madam Pomfrey was hovering over a wooden counter, filling small bottles up with unknown liquids.  She was humming under her breath and moving in a buoyant motion, up and down, from flat heel to the tip of her toes.  Along the left and right walls lay beds with crisp white linens and purple blankets.  Along the right wall, right next to the double doors, was a smaller door leading to the offices and living quarters of the Hogwarts school nurse.  _

"Poppy?" queried Snape.  "I have your first patient of the year here that needs some direct mediwitch attention."  Madame Pomfrey turned around and observed the Professor with his new and unusual guest.  "And what seems to be the problem, dearies?" she asked making her way over to the couple.  Isabel remained silent, looking awkwardly toward Snape for help.

"She's burned her hands.  I think they are magical burns.  She also has a scraped wrist," said Snape, not really wanting to explain everything.  "Here," he said, holding Isabel's hands up for inspection.  Madame Pomfrey looked them over, turning them this way and that.  

"I know just the thing," she informed them.  "I've got some Liverwotty paste here for just such things."  Madame Pomfrey first cast a healing charm on the wrist injury before she reached up toward an orange glass jar on the shelf above her head.  After opening the jar, she slipped on some worked dragon hide gloves that fit like second skin.  Reaching over for Isabel's hands, Madame Pomfrey dabbed a fair amount of an orangey paste onto the palms.  Isabel began to breathe easier as the burning sensation receded.

"That feels wonderful, Madam Pomfrey," sighed Isabel in relief.  "You are very talented madam."  Almost immediately, the pain was receding, followed by a strange numbing sensation.  Isabel flexed her hands and fingers, marveling at their dexterity.  

"Well, dearie, you're not the first patient I've ever have with burns," chortled the bubbling mediwitch.  "You are probably, however, one of the easiest patients I've had taking a treatment.  Are you here…visiting someone?"  Madame Pomfrey looked at Snape and then to Isabel and back again, obviously curious.  She was noting the cloak with the Slytherin badge.  

"Isabel Solus is the newest installment of Dumbdore's penchant for strays.  She's here at the Headmaster's request," said Snape, looking slightly uncomfortable under the mediwitch's regard.  "I'm sure the Headmaster will inform you all about her at the staff meeting tonight."

"Are you teaching the DADA classes Isabel?  Or should I call you Professor?" asked Madame Pomfrey.  She stripped off her gloves and deposited them in the nearby sink, replacing the orange jar.  She grabbed a swath of white linen and proceeded to wrap Isabel's hands, being careful to allow for finger movement.

"No, she's not an instructor, Poppy," replied Snape.  "That is, the DADA position is Lupin's job once more."  At this pronouncement, an unattractive and disgruntled look appeared upon the professor's face.  He didn't like the fact that Lupin had landed the position…again.  In Snape's official opinion, Remus Lupin shouldn't even have received the position because he was a werewolf.  However, with Voldemort out in the open and moral support flocking to the side of Dumbledore, the headmaster's decisions were being heralded as divine truth.  The Board of Governors had lodged only a token protest before backing down when Dumbledore told them it was the in the best interest of the students and the fight against the Dark Lord.  _Which means I'll be back to brewing that blasted potion again, thought Snape.  "The headmaster has decided that the faculty will require additional help, in light of all the extra curricular activities that we have become involved in," he continued on, "But he has yet to inform me of who will be given the dubious pleasure of her company during the school year.  I can only pray that it is not I."_

"Oh, I had no idea.  How thoughtful of Albus," mused the mediwitch.  She finished wrapping Isabel's hands and tied the linen strips off.  She reached for another object on the shelf.  

"I believe that I will spend time with ALL the instructors before discussing with Albus the final decision," said Isabel, offended by having the two staff members talk about her over her head.  "I may reside in the dungeons, but that doesn't mean that I shall stay there all the time." She gave Snape a narrowed look**.** "As I suspect some do.  I like fresh air.  I like flowers and I love company."  Isabel drew herself up to her full height to hide that fact that her new knees were knocking together in a crescendo of noise.  Snape looked at her as if she had grown a second head.  "Thank you, Madame Pomfrey, I feel remarkably recovered and able to attend to the rest of the details of my arrival here.  Professor Snape, if you would be so kind as to show me the new rooms?"  Isabel took one solid step at a time, attempting to exit the room with dignity, only to stop at the iron door handles.  She bit her lip in consternation, debating how badly she wanted to leave.  _I have never felt this way before.  Truly, I am reverting to a colt to be behaving so irrationally._

"For Merlin's sake!" exclaimed Snape.  "Let me open the doors for you.  You only just had your hands tended to."  He began moving toward the doors only to see her wrap her hands in the folds of his cloak, grasp the handles, open the doors, and sail out on her own steam.  He started after her when he felt Madam Pomfrey's hand on his shoulder and turned to see her offering him a pair of ladies' gloves.  He thanked her and then followed in the wake of the Unicorn.

Isabel had to stop ten feet down the corridor and wait for Severus.  She didn't know where the dungeons were.  She didn't know where she was in even the simplest terms.  Her eyes panned the corridor and the uppers stairwells.  Her heart sank when she saw one of the stairwells begin to move.  If she moved too far from the infirmary doors, who knows where she might end up; she would be lost in this huge castle.  She saw Severus come out of the double doors and approach her with a rather grim expression.  His eyes never left her form standing a few feet from him.  In his hands she saw a pair of black leather gloves and he was slapping them against his thigh while he studied her.

"You didn't have to leave in_ alt,_" he drawled.  "I was only trying to keep information to a minimum to let Dumbledore decide how much he wanted to say.  He said he was keeping you a secret and I suppose he has his reasons."  Severus noticed she was getting pink in the face.  

"I am not a fool," she said.  "I understand perfectly what you were trying to do."

"It doesn't look that way from over here," replied Severus mockingly.  He didn't know why he was baiting her.  However, it made him feel better**… and wasn't he Snape the bastard, anyway?**

"I have had centuries to contemplate the human condition, Severus—" she began.

"Well, you had me fooled for certain, then," he inserted with a twisted grin.  She opened her mouth, but he forestalled her.  "Let me take you to what will be your rooms during your—visit."  He started down the corridor with Isabel following close behind.

Severus didn't bother to slow his pace; he had a class to teach, after all.  He led her through down the stairs toward the first floor and dungeons.  After going down a final flight of steps, they were in a four-point intersection.  Behind them were the stairs to the ground floor.  To the left was a hallway with a set of dungeon rooms, and the doors to Slytherin House.  Ahead were a set of storage rooms and a door with a plaque on it saying Argus Filch.  To the right were the Potions classroom, and the office and private rooms of Severus Snape.  Along the wall, the eerie flickering of the torches made Isabel shiver.  _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea_, she thought uneasily.  Severus made a sharp turn to the right and walked stridently toward the end of the hallway, robes fanning out behind him.  

He opened the far door, revealing a large and spacious, yet barren room.  With a wave of his wand, Severus lit the torches along the wall.  He walked in, Isabel trailing behind him about a meter.  Her eyes drank in the stark shape of the rectangular room, and again feelings of abandonment, fear, and insecurity threatened to swamp her.  She made a noise in the back of her throat that made Severus pause, but then he continued without looking back.   

"This is a sitting area, actually.  There are two doors at the far end of the room.  One is the bedroom and the other is the bathing chamber.  None are furnished but I'm sure the house elves, alerted to your presence, will be overjoyed to refurbish it to your exact tastes.  The fireplace here will be taken off the Floo network immediately so you won't have to worry about unexpected visitors or callers," explained Severus, indicating with his hands all the features of the apartments.  _What is a flu network, thought Isabel.  A very disheartening thought flew through her head.  __If I stay here, I will be expected to know these things.  I will be expected to know EVERYTHING.  The thought filled her with a sort of panicked horror.  She was never, ever, going to be able to pull this off.  Then common sense asserted itself.  _You will be fine_, she told herself.  __You have centuries propping you up.  This is very easy; it WILL be easy, once you get the general ideas down.  Yes, yes, no need to panic.  Isabel managed to talk herself down from the abject terror of the situation lying before her.  _

Severus observed her expressions watching them chase each other across her face.  He saw the fear, pain, misery, hope, and finally calm.  He wanted to say something, but it had to be this way.  He didn't do 'nice'.  She should not rely on him for anything.  It was better for her to go to McGonagall or Dumbledore if she was feeling sorry for herself again.  He couldn't be a shoulder to cry on.  However, he could do one thing for her.  He could help to make her strong in the face of this adversity.  He reached deep into himself to find the way.  He felt another piece of his soul shatter at what he was about to do.  The pain of it motivated him to direct his own feelings of misery, bitterness and hatred back at the source.

"It's not dreadful at all, Isabel, just some dust.  I'm sure you encountered worse housekeeping out in Nature's woodlands.  I can't believe that after a few hours as a woman, you are turning your nose up at the place YOU requested," said Severus with a sneer.

"It's not that.  It wasn't what I was thinking," replied Isabel shakily.

"Still wallowing in self-pity, I see.  If you walked off the pedestal you see yourself standing upon, You would realize and be thankful to still be alive and in one piece," said Snape with a broadening grin as he watched her eyes widen.  "Do you think you are better than mortals?" he asked. 

"I NEVER said anything remotely resembling your appalling accusations," said Isabel through gritted teeth.  Severus stalked toward her and grabbed her right arm.

"But you were thinking it weren't you?" he asked softly, his breath caressing her cheek.  "You've been thinking it the moment you realized what nature of spell you let me cast upon you."  She jerked her head back.  Twisting out of his loose grip, she opened her mouth to reply to his taunting.  Then she closed her mouth.  He was a little surprised that she didn't try to make excuses for herself.  He withdrew a small wooden block from his robes.  He tapped the block and murmured a charm.  Transfiguration wasn't his strong point but even he could turn the block into a crate.  He set it down in the middle of the room in front of the fireplace.

"Your throne, my lady," he said mockingly to her.  "And a pair of gloves to protect your oh-so-superior hands from the door handles."  He laid the gloves on the seat of the crate.  He walked toward the exit.  Looking one final time at her over his shoulder, he said, "I shall inform the house elves that you will require some help settling in.  Ask them for anything you might require."  His voice took on a softer, more velvety tone.  "And wear your pride like a shield, Isabel; you will need its strength to survive."  Severus snarled at himself for allowing even that bit of concern and marched out of the room.  The door made a loud 'bang' as it was roughly closed.

_It's more like a prison than a room, thought Isabel.  She looked around the sitting room before walking toward the crate.  She picked up and slid on the gloves.  Sinking to sit on the crate, she buried her hands in her face and cried._

*                      *                      *                      *

Harry, Ron and Hermione were eating in the Great Hall.  In between bites, they were talking about their new class schedules.  As usual, 90% of their lesson schedules matched them up perfectly. 

"Gosh 'Mione if you hadn't tutored us I don't think we would have had this many classes" said Ron.  "I dunno whether to hug you or hex you."  Harry was reading his when he suddenly stilled.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Hermione worriedly.  He whispered something she didn't catch.  She leaned over to hear him better.

"I have Occlumency on Monday evenings," he whispered.  Occlumency, the subject that, had he taken it seriously, would have saved Sirius.  It was a familiar pain, a dull ache in the middle of his chest whenever he thought of his godfather.  It was also something he didn't want to admit to anyone.  Not Ron, Hermione or even Mrs. Weasley could get him to talk about it all summer.  

"I don't have that," Ron said, looking at his schedule.  "Must be a private lesson you know, like before."  Ron caught the look on Harry's face and clamped his mouth shut.

"Well I have Arithmancy, only its double for me," Hermione said, trying to change the subject.  She knew that Sirius, his death, and all of last year had been very hard for Harry to handle.  She noticed on the Hogwarts Express that he seemed to be quieter than usual.  Not even Luna Lovegood coming into the compartment and rattling on about the strange places she had been over the summer had gotten a reaction.  Well, it had gotten a reaction from Ron, but Harry spent almost the entire train ride up there staring out the window.  

"There is one good thing, though," Ron said trying to inject a note of cheer.  "We have our Apparating classes this year!"  He looked very pleased with himself to have imparted this bit of news.

"Oh my gosh, Ron, you're right!"  Hermione said.  "Although we will have to take the Floo Network to a different building to practice; since you can't Apparate here in the castle.  **_Hogwarts, a History_, you know."  **

Harry wasn't paying attention, though.  He was staring down at the slip of paper in his hands, lost in thought.  All that kept running through his mind was Occlumancy and Snape.  His hands suddenly clutched tight, crumpling the class schedule.  Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to yell at whoever it was, when his gaze focused on Hermione's face, her lips moving.

"-by with a note saying Dumbledore wants to see us, Harry.  Harry?  Harry!"  Hermione said shaking Harry's shoulder.

"You okay, Harry?" asked Ron with concern.  "You don't look too good.  Like you ate a bad Bertie Bott's Flavored Bean.  Maybe you should go see Madame Pomfrey, eh?"

"I'm fine.  Hermione, you said Dumbledore wanted to see us.  We have 30 minutes 'till Herbology.  We better get going."  Harry stood up, grabbed his book pack and started for Dumbledore's office.  Ron was fast behind him, Hermione just a little behind them both after explaining that they would see the other Gryffindors later.  In ten minutes, the trio was sailing up the steps to Dumbledore's office.  

"Ah, I'm glad the three of you could make it," Dumbledore said cheerily.  "I have some things I want to clarify before we start this school year."

"Is it about the woman claiming to be a unicorn?"  Hermione asked, sensing where this conversation was going.  Ron and Harry leaned a little more forward in their seats.  They could see actually visible signs of strain.  Dumbledore looked old.  Not the old that he normally did, with the white hair and long beard.  It was more that he seemed less like the keeper of all knowing logic than a tired and haggard wizard.  

"It is, Hermione, and yes, she is a unicorn, or she used to be," Dumbledore said.  When all three students opened their mouths to say something, he held up his hand to forestall them.  "I don't need to tell you that while it is obvious we cannot mask her presence here, it is imperative that her origins are not to be told to ANYONE.  Only those in the Order will be aware of her actual identity," he finished.

"It's all Snape's fault isn't it?  He did that to her," Harry said.

"_Professor Snape," Dumbledore emphasized, "Did a very courageous thing today.  He saved Isabel, which is her new name, from certain death.  Harry, I need you to be respectful to Professor Snape this year.  I understand how you feel, but I have to ask this of you," Dumbledore said, looking at the rebellious teen.  Ever since he had told Harry the truth about the prophecy, he felt like had he lost him in some way.  The closeness that had developed during Harry's first year was ebbing away.  The boy who had come to Hogwarts five years ago shy, modest and full of wonder, was angry, bitter and defiant._

"I just want the three of you to help Isabel adjust to life here at Hogwarts.  I don't know how long her stay with us will be.  It all depends on whether we can apprehend the Hunter that is out in the Forbidden Forest or not.  On top of this, there is still the business of the Order tracking as many Death Eaters as possible and filling the ranks of the Aurors."  Dumbledore looked at the three students, studied them for their reactions.

"You can count on me, Headmaster."  Hermione said firmly.

"Me too, Professor," chimed in Ron.  "I'll look after her like she was my sister."  Harry stood up.  He debated saying no.  He, Harry, desperately wanted to do something that wasn't dictated by the Headmaster.  Dumbledore had already taken enough liberties with his life.  As Harry looked Dumbledore straight in the face, he felt his resolve waver.  Dumbledore was the closest thing to a parental figure Harry had, next to Sirius.  The dull pain returned to his chest.  He didn't want to lose another important person in his life.  

"All right, Professor, I'll do as you ask," said Harry; there was only a trace of the disappointment he felt in his voice.

"Thank you," Albus let his regard linger on Harry's face.  "Here is a note for you to take to Professor Sprout to explain any tardiness."  Dumbledore floated a small folded slip of paper to Hermione.  Hermione and Ron recognized a dismissal when they heard one.  They headed out of the office toward their first class.  Harry trailed behind.  He stopped at the door and turned around to look at the headmaster.

"Professor," he began in a hoarse voice, as he brought up a painful subject.  "I noticed on my schedule that I have Occlumency lessons.  I assume...I...that is, I am to be taking them with Professor Snape?"  Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment, and Harry was almost sure he wasn't going to say anything.

"No Harry, you will take the lessons with me," Dumbledore said gravely.  "And I must emphasize that I need you to take it seriously this time."

"Professor, if it's a matter of my behavior, I can be…better this time," replied Harry, although inwardly, he cringed at the thought of having dealings with the Dark Arts loving Potions Master on a regular basis.

"No Harry, I do not doubt you, but I believe Professor Snape will be a very busy man this term, and I would like to make sure you receive the training you need.  I want to...do things right this time," said Dumbledore softly.  "Now head on to class, Harry, your schoolmates are waiting for you."  Harry nodded once and left to join his friends.

*                      *                      *                      *

"Why is miss crying?" exclaimed a tinselly voice to Isabel's right.  Isabel looked up from her hands to see a small stringy female house-elf staring at her.  Knee height in stature, the house elf sported the largest bat like ears she had ever seen.  Her skin was gray and wrinkly, and her head bobbed atop the shoulders.  The elf's eyes took up half her face, with two small holes for a nose and a wide slash for a mouth.

"It's nothing for you to worry about, elf."  Isabel began to wipe her eyes with the edges of the cloak.  "Are you here to help me settle in?  And what is your name?" asked Isabel with a small encouraging smile.

"My name is Wimbly, miss," answered the elf.  "Professor Snape tells us to helps miss with her new rooms.  What would miss likes?" asked Wimbly with her head cocked to one side.

"I…er…I don't know.  I will…um…leave it to your…imagination. Nothing too black; I really like green though," babbled Isabel, striving to seem knowledgeable.  "Who is 'Us'?" asked Isabel looking around for more company but only seeing Wimbly.  

"Us is us miss," said Wimbly, who clapped her hands.  Instantly several dozen house elves began to appear and looked at Wimbly expectantly.  She looked toward Isabel.  "This is us miss.  We will helps you now."  Wimbly clapped her hands again and began chattering quickly in a language Isabel could not follow too well.  House elves spread to the far corners of the apartments.  Like a symphony performing with Wimbly as the conductor, the room began to sparkle and shine.  They left the door open and other elves poured in with all sorts of furnishings.  Rugs, lamps, bookshelves, tables, chairs**… all arrived and were arranged by the capable Wimbly.  The procession mirrored a line of ants, the elves seemed capable of bearing loads that were twice or three times their own weight.  They lit the fire, laid new rugs, positioned the new furniture and brought in new sheets for the bedroom.  Isabel walked from room to room, watching the elves work like a small army of industriousness.**

When the elves were done, they left, leaving only Wimbly.  The parlor was aglow in soft yellow light from the fireplace.  A maroon plush couch sat in front of it, flanked by matching chairs on either side.  Warm cherry wood end tables and a coffee table completed the ensemble.  A side board had been brought in, along with five piece dining set for the right wall.  The left wall boasted empty bookshelves.  Isabel had dismissed the wrought iron candelabra so the only light other than the fire were six wall sconces.  But what delighted the young woman the most were the touches of deep forest green scattered about on pillows, throws, and a vase of flowers on the dining table.  The bedroom contained a four poster cherry wood bed with cream linens, matching bedside table with a water pitcher, an armoire, a chest of drawers with mirror, and a wooden hope chest at the foot of the bed filled with extra blankets…in green.  

"This is wonderful, Wimbly, I love what you have done," Isabel said happily as she toured the rooms.  A loud rumbling sound emitted from her stomach.  Isabel chuckled, "I think I'm hungry, Wimbly, would you show me were I might get something to eat?"

"Miss waits here, Wimbly gets it for miss," said Wimbly, clucking around Isabel, leading her to the couch.  Wimbly dashed out of the room toward the kitchens.  In the hallway, she passed a boy who had been eyeing the activity in the dungeons with an interested eye during his breaks.  His blonde hair was slicked back and he was straightening his clothing as he walked to the staircase. 

"You there, elf, what are you doing?" he asked.  Wimbly stopped to look at the boy.  She noticed his prefect badge.  

"Wimbly's is getting some food for miss," she answered with a trembling voice.  

"WHO is miss, elf?" asked the prefect icily.  His eyes turned a steely grey and his expression hardened, attempting to intimidate the elf.  It seemed to be working.  Wimbly's knees began to shake._  There's something not right about master's interest in the miss, she thought.  _But master gots a badge, so Wimbly must tell him._  _

"Miss is Professor Snape's friend.  She lives in that room now.  Wimbly is fetching something for miss to eats," replied Wimbly timidly.

"Oh really," drawled the boy.  He started toward the door, intending to knock.  The boy heard voices which stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Dra-co," called Pansy Parkinson in her most obnoxious high pitched voice.  "Hurry, Drackie, or we'll be late for class!"  Draco looked at the door but turned away with a sour twist to his lips.  He was going to punish Pansy for her interference.  He went from sour to smiling in seconds at the thought.  

*                      *                      *                      *

As morning passed into afternoon to early evening, Peter Pettigrew, a.ka, Wormtail, waited at the table in the darkest corner at The Hog's Head inn.  He had almost given up for the day and was going to retire to his rooms when he spotted his quarry enter the common room.

"Bartender!" bellowed Pettigrew in his best impression of his boss.  "More swill over here, please, to wipe the taste I already have!"  The hooded man who entered the inn made his way to the seemingly drunk man in the corner.  He sat down, and waited for the drunk's glass to be delivered.  After the bartender left, the thickset man known as Peter leaned forward.

"Well, do you have it?" he asked softly.  The other man waited one long moment before speaking.

"Not yet, some new teacher at the school almost caught me.  I will get it, though, make no mistake.  This is just a short delay," replied the Hunter.

"Make sure it's short.  He doesn't like to be kept waiting, you know," Pettigrew giggled.  "He has got quite the temper."

"I'll get it," growled the Hunter.  "I'll get what he wants and I will personally KILL the one responsible."

"Well if it's a new teacher, then it must be Lupin," said Pettigrew speculatively.  "I had heard there was a hubbub about him teaching, but the headmaster got his way.  It was in the Daily Prophet."  

"Lupin, eh," said the Hunter**.** "That's the werewolf, isn't it?" A sinister smile broadened the Hunter's face.  "Looks like a double hunt; I really love those."  The Hunter dropped some change onto the table and left the inn.  Pettigrew yawned, and then took the steps up to his room.  He had a lot to tell the Dark Lord when he returned to his side.  The Dark Lord hated liars.

*                      *                      *                      *

An hour before dinner, Isabel was having a problem.  She was grossly uncomfortable.  And she was afraid she would ruin the new rooms.  

"Wimbly!" she summoned imperiously.  Wimbly arrived in her room, and looked at Isabel inquiringly.  

"Wimbly, do you know a Hermione Granger?"  she asked.  Wimbly nodded.  "Would you please ask her to come to these rooms immediately?"  Wimbly nodded and took off.  Thirty minutes had passed when she heard a knock on the door.

"Enter," Isabel said.  The door opened to reveal a nervous Hermione Granger in the portal.

"Well, come in," invited Isabel.  Hermione moved into the room, oblivious to the figure that had ducked at the sound of her arrival in the dungeons.  Grey eyes watched her enter the rooms at the end of the hall.  When the door was shut behind her, he emerged from around the corner.  He contemplated the events that had been happening this day. Draco Malfoy smelled a mystery about that occupant at the end of the hall.  And he was going to find out what was going on.

     


End file.
